Hey Mama

"Hey Mama" by Kanye West

...I wanna scream so loud for you / cuz I'm so proud of you...

My Auntie Aminata had a cookout at her house today in celebration of Mother's Day and in honor of little Mohamed Fornah's 2nd birthday, one of the youngest of our clan.

Yesterday night my cousins Hawa and Fatima and I went to Shockoe Bottom for a night out. Hawa is only 20 but the lounge we had decided to go to had an African night (or something like that) and it is typically 18 and older.

Well, the African night is every other Saturday and we had showed up on the wrong Saturday. So as not to call the whole night a waste, we went to a pizza place on the corner of Main and 18th (I believe) that sells these beef patties that I am addicted to. I bought some beef patties for Fatima and I and the three of us took a seat in the first booth. We began to kongosah about the people walking in and out of the joint, about family members, about each other, and more.

A conversation erupted about female genital mutilation. Back home in Sierra Leone, there is a tradition called the Bondo Society. It is a secret society of sorts whose notoriety comes from the cutting of the clitoris. It sounds so heinous and so inhumane and so disgusting, however, it is so common, all over Africa. It is a testament to the hardship that is being a female in this world. Can you imagine if men were forced to endure a "beheading" of their penis? Yeah. Would not happen.

Both of my cousins have gone through it. As they were describing the details, I felt lightheaded and as if goosebumps were appearing underneath my skin (yeah). I was so disgusted and so angry. I remember my mother and some of her sisters having a conversation about Bondo Society a long time ago, at my kitchen table. A lot was discussed but what I distinctly remember being said by my mother was, "Me! I nor go put mi pikin inside dey. I nor go do am (Me! I would not put my child inside [that society]. I would not do it).

My mama is awesome. I have never had the courage to ask my mother if she was in the Bondo Society, but the fact that she objects to it is good enough for me. Had I grown up in Sierra Leone, while my peers may have been forced to join the Bondo Society, I wouldn't have because my mother is a genius.

Hearing my sisters talk about their experiences in the society, from being told about a "party" they would be going to, walking into a room with the floor decorated in the blood of other girls who have already been mutilitated, the pressure to keep the secret society a secret, the fear of dying from bleeding uncontrollably (there have been girls who DIED because of this tradition), to the brainwashing of women to think that this is an acceptable tradition, made me hot with anger and cold with fear for the future of African women.

The tradition is based on the ideologies of some idiot man who decided women should not enjoy sex so their clitorises must be removed. It is also to prevent promiscuity among women (while the men go out and sleep with anyone and keep the rates of HIV/AIDS high as all hell in the continent of Africa). And we African women are somehow brainwashed and continue to subject our daughters to this, kill our daughters, destroy our daughters sense of self and body, participate in our subordination to men, maintain the control about the conversation of sexuality on the side of the men, and remain at risk for everything that is a consequence of sexual behavior.

It is disgusting. And it is further evidence that it is so hard to be a women in this world culture. It is so, so hard to be able to give life but have our lives valued so little.

So, hey Mama. Thank you for teaching me about being an African woman. My Mommy and I have never had any real conversations about sex or sexuality, feminism or feminity, etc., but she has always been (in the midst of all our mother/daughter tumult) a brilliant example of a powerful African woman.

She is a wonderful wife to my father. Their marriage demonstrates a wonderful sense of balance in power, authority, respect, influence, and compromise. I know that I will be just like my mother in my marriage. For one, my personality is a carbon copy of hers. For two, she compromises her dominating, aggressive personality with respecting my father's authority and understanding that they must make a life together and has taught me that is how a marriage works. No matter how much trash I might talk about my parent's individually, together, they are the most perfect and cutest couple ever. Really.

She is a wonderful, selfless, kind, compassionate sister, aunt, daughter, and mother. She works so hard not to gather fine things for herself but to give us all better than the basics.

Lastly, despite our lack of an emotional relationship, observing her with my Daddy all of my life, learning of hardships with my younger brother's illness (Autism), recalling her hardships being the mother of me (the most extra child ever), she has shown me to integrate pride and selflessness into my identity as an African, as a Black person, and as a woman.

She was the first feminist I ever knew. She probably wouldn't classify herself as such, she didn't burn her bras in the 1960s, she is a traditional African woman in many senses, and she is too African to give a damn about 'feminism' as we understand it in a Western context, but she makes me so proud and excited to be a woman, an African woman.

My identity as a Black African and as a woman account for almost all the details of my way of thinking and my life. What I am studying in college, why I am studying it, what I want to do for a living, what causes I choose to volunteer under, the global political issues I follow, the opinions I have about issues, etc. are all influenced by my identity.

I identify first as an African, second as a woman, and third as a human being. That may sound a little harsh, but we must protect the portion of our identity most vulnerable to marginalization.

I gets that from my Mommy. And when I woke this morning, and sat across from her in her sister's living room, I really couldn't remember why I should be mad at her. I'm sure life will remind me later, as she always does, but for now, I love my Mommy.

...hey Mama, I know I act a fool but, I promise you I'm goin back to school / I appreciate what you allowed for me / I just want you to be proud of me...